In Rememberance
by Daisy Chains and Growing Pains
Summary: It had been ten years since she had last saw him. Ten years since she had heard his name. Ten years later, the detective's wife's skeletons come tumbling out of the closet.
1. Chapter 1

_December 1997_

"I can't do this anymore,"

The chilled air of the unheated flat bit at her back as she slipped her sweater back over her head. A wisp of her hair caught in the collar, dragging down across her face. She expelled a small puff of air from her lips, blowing the locks of dark blonde out of her eyes as she stood up from the mattress throw against the cement floor, pulling the sweater down around her midriff. He tried to grab her waist, pull her back into bed and into his arms, "Kate, stop, ya don' have to do this," he whispered. She couldn't turn to look at him, knowing damn well his clear blue eyes would plead with her to stay. She grasped his wrist, pushing it away from her, pulling her worn jeans back on. They would always do this. Bitter breakups and sweet makeups. The door would slam on a Tuesday, they would spit venom at each other until the tears fell and his brother would rip him away from the door, whispering his apologies and shutting it softly in her face, they would fall into each other's arms on a Thursday, kissing the scars they had left in the others mind and apologizing profusely. Repeat as needed.

"I do, Connor," she turned to face him finally, the moth eaten blankets draped around his waist, his face begging her not to go, "I'm sick of this."

"Of what, Kate?"

She hated how much she loved him. How much she loved his husky accent, his eyes, his sleepy expressions that her tried to hid under a mask of anger and hurt. "This, Connor. I'm 22 years old, for fuck's sake. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of playing house with your brother. I'm tired of being an afterthought. I love you. But I'm getting too old for this; I have a career now, my own place. I can't keep doing this."

"So what, huh? What do ya fuckin' want, Kate?"

She closed her eyes, his already rising tone biting at her, "I want you."

"What?"

"I want you to move in. With me."

He sighed heavily, throwing himself back onto the mattress and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, "Ya know I can't do that,"

"Why, Connor? Why can't you?"

"I can't leave him, Kate, he's my brother. Ya know that that."

He had sat up again, propping himself up on his elbows. She ignored his gaze. "I'm sorry, Conn," she tugged her boots on, her chest tightening up as she bit back tears. She meant it this time, she told herself. Sheets rustled beside her as Connor crossed the length of the bed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back down. His forehead pressed against her back and she couldn't make herself pull away.

"Baby, you don' have to do this," he whispered, his lips finding her neck as he sat up behind her, "I… I just can't, not right now. Just, not for a while."

"Four years, Connor. You've been telling me the same thing for four years. Why did you do all of this then? Leave Ireland with me; follow me here while I'm going to school. Uproot both yours an' Murphy's lives."

"Because, I love you Kate."

She broke away from his grasp, closing the short distance between the bed and the door. Connor stood up, following her in his threadbare boxers, "I've known you my entire life. I didn't know how badly I wanted you until we were in secondary. It's been four years since you've actually been mine. Four years, and you still can't commit. You can follow me all the way here but you can't commit to being with me," she pulled the door open, inhaling sharply through her nostrils when Connor leaned against it and pushed the lock back in place, "I've been following you around since we were kids, Connor, waiting for the day that I would finally have you. And now that I have you, I still feel like I don't."

"The fuck do you mean I can't commit? I committed to coming here with you, I've committed to being your boyfriend, I committed to dragging me brother here even though neither of us really fucking wanted to."

"I need more than that."

Connor dragged his down his face, "So you' re just gonna up and leave? In the middle of the fucking night? Because I'm not ready to put a ring on your fucking finger? I'm the same fucking age as you, Kate. I work at a fucking meat packing plant. I'm not one of your university boys, alright? Don't you dare expect me to be something that I'm not."

"I'm not insinuating that I want you to be,"

"Then what the fuck are you insinuating?"

Kate licked her wind chapped lips, she opened her mouth, closed it, unable to find the words she wished to say. Instead, she pressed her palms against the Irishman's chest, rising up on her toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Cigarettes and alcohol. The bitter taste had become so sweet to her over the years. "I need you to stop taking me for granted. I need you to want me, Connor."

"I do, Kate, I jus-."

"I'm not asking you to abandon him. He's your brother, I love him too Connor."

"I just need time, Kate,"

"I can't wait any longer, Connor," she bit her lip, begging Connor to allow her to open the door as the tears started to fall, "I love you," she whispered, pulling the door open against his weight. He begged for her to stay, at least through the night, he said, it was too cold, snowing too hard, at least let me walk you home, he begged. "Connor, please," she choked through her tears.

"I love you, don't do this," he took her face in his hands, blue boring into blue. She tried her hardest not to meet his gaze, wrapping her fingers around his wrists. Yet, instead of pulling him away, she held him there. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he brushed the pads of his thumbs along her cheeks, the Celtic cross tattooed into his skin rippling.

"I love you too,"

She pried the door open once more, Connor allowing her to leave this time. She shut the door behind her quickly, the sound of the lock shifting into place making her heart sink into her stomach. She leaned up against the door, sliding down into a sitting position, her head in her hands. She stayed that way for a while, her head leaned up against the door. She sniffled, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and stood, walking out of the apartment building and into the cold December night.

The chilled wind bit at her tear stained cheeks as she started the six block walk back to her own apartment. She held her coat close to her body, tucking her chin into the chunky turtleneck of her sweater. It was late, dark, and she was wandering the sidewalks of the rougher parts of South Boston alone. She took in the sounds of the city around her; the sirens of cop cars whistling through the allies, the chatter and laughter echoing from the bars and pubs, the honks of John's calling for a hooker from the safety of their cars. Boston had a much different sound that the island country she left four years ago. She had left after graduating secondary, her romance with Connor burning bright and young, accepting admission to Boston University to pursue the career as an elementary school teacher that her parents had told her that she would exceed in. When she left home at 18, she imagined her life to be so different; that she and Connor would love and live a happy life, that she would graduate like she did earlier this year, and everything would fall in place from there. Yet, it didn't. She blamed herself, expecting Connor to be ready to change his ways so early. She had graduated, gotten a teaching job at an elementary school in one of the nicer neighborhoods in South Boston right out of school. At least that part of her plan followed through.

She kept her pace, trying to water down her thoughts by replacing them with thoughts of her lesson plan for the following morning. She thought of maybe starting the day with a film, being that she was sure sleep wasn't in her plans for the rest of the night. She was pulled from her thoughts as a black Crown Victoria rolled up beside her, slowing to a crawl. She kept her eyes forward, gripping her purse a little tighter. The heavily tinted passenger window rolled down, "Miss?"

Kate ignored the heavy Boston accent that spilled from the window, keeping on. She wasn't in the mood to converse with whatever asshole was calling to her. Just five more blocks until she was home and could be alone.

"Miss, Boston Police. Can you slow down for a second?"

"I'm not hooking, if that's what you think," she spat, "I'm just walking home."

"I didn't think you were, Miss. I'm Detective Duffy, I'm with the 26th District. Are you walking by yourself at this hour?"

"I can handle my own, Detective. I'm only headed five more blocks. Thank you."

The detective came to a stop, Kate rolling her eyes and stopping as well. "Well, Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to make sure you get home safe. So either I'm gonna have to drive alongside you the next five blocks or you'll just have to let me drive you home. Your choice."

"I didn't think it was part of a detective's job description to play taxi," she pulled her jacket tighter around her.

"It's not, Miss, just being a decent person. Besides, it's cold as hell tonight. C'mon, let me drive you home."

Kate raised a wary eyebrow, the detective throwing his hands up in mock surrender, "I'm not pulling anything, I promise, I'll show you my badge."

Kate bounced on her hip for a moment, weighing how this situation could go sour. She rolled her eyes, sighing as she reached for the car door handle, climbing into the warmth of the detective's unmarked car. "There ya go. Where are we going now, Miss?" the detective said, taking the vehicle out of mark and signaling to get back on the road. She gave him her address, glancing over at the generous detective; he was much older than her, probably a good five or six years her senior, but still young. He had a handsome face, short cropped brown hair spiked softly with a surprising amount of gel and kind green eyes. He must have been on the clock for a while, stubble raised on his chin. He was quite good looking, she couldn't help but notice. Tired, but handsome.

"Duffy, is it?"

"Duffy, yeah. Brian Duffy."

She settled into the back of the seat, "Kate Flannery," she said softly.

He offered her a smile, "Flannery, huh? Figured you were Irish," he turned to look at her, "The accent, ya know? How long have you been in the States?"

"Four years,"

"Four years? I didn't figure that long at all. How old are you, Kate?"

"I'm 22. Graduated from Boston U in the spring. I'm teaching at McKinley, now."

"The elementary school? What grade? Shouldn't ya be starting winter break by now?"

She smiled softly, thinking about the sweet faces in her classroom, "First grade. They're a bunch of angels, wouldn't want to be doing anything else. And winter break starts on the 17th. So next week."

Brian smiled again, pulling up a red light, "That's great to hear. Wish more people enjoyed their jobs," he glanced at the digital clock on his dash, the red numbers reading past midnight, "Aren't you out a little late for a school night?"

"Do you always ask this many questions, detective?"

He chuckled, apologizing, "I'm not quite out of the cop mode, yenno?"

She smiled, "It's fine. Um, I was at my boyfriend's… Well, ex boyfriend's place."

He reached over, giving her shoulder a squeeze, "Sorry to hear about that. Just went through a breakup myself, though I'm sure it's a little different at 28 than it is at 22."

His hand lingered for a few moments, Kate clearing her throat softly before the detective brought his hand back to the steering wheel. She tucked her hair behind her ears, "I just, I don't know, I guess I expected too much from him."

"Hey, you have the right to expect too much from the person you care about," he assured.

She leaned her head against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling of the care, the scanner calling out codes, "I mean, was I wrong? I don't want to act like teenagers anymore. I want to settle down. Fuck, I'm probably the only 22 year old in the world to want that, to settle down."

Duffy chewed on his lip, taking in the pieces she was slowly giving him, "I don't think you're wrong. If you're ready, you're ready. And if he can't give that to you, then you have every right to move on."

She nodded, laughing quietly, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Duffy took the turn into her apartment complex, nodding as she told him the appropriate building to pull up in front of. She drew her bag into her lap, reaching to unbuckle before the car came to a complete stop, lurching forward slightly as the detective pressed on the brakes. "Thank you for the drive home, Detective," she said softly, leaning to open the car door and make her escape. She gripped the handle, ready to break from the warmth of the car and into the cold night once more that night, but she paused. She took a breath before turning to Brian, "You know, you didn't have to be so nice to me,"

He nodded, "I know,"

"So why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because you looked like you were having a hell of a night," he said, reaching over her lap and into the glove box, "And pretty girls deserve to get home safe. Besides, it's my job," she was thankful for the lack of light to hide the blush that crept over her cheeks, Brian slipping a heavy piece of cardstock into her small hand, "That's my card. Call me if you need to talk, or, ya know, need a ride home again."

She returned the smile that he offered her, curling her fingers around the card and giving her thanks again. She pushed the car door open, stepping out into the slush that coated the pavement. She closed the door, turning a giving Brian a little wave before digging into her purse to locate her keys. She took the creaky steps up to her door, Detective Duffy's car still illuminated under the lamp posts that illuminated the frozen parking lot. She smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a frown, the prior events of the night returning to the forefront of her mind as she entered her apartment, watching the detective's brake lights pull off into the snow.

* * *

Kate chewed on the end of the green pen that she gripped in her right hand, scanning the spelling tests littered on her desk. Her students had been dropped off at the cafeteria, paper bags and cartoon character lunch boxes gripped in chubby fists. With her kids at lunch and then off to recess, she could catch up on the grading that she neglected to get done in the madness of the night before. Her eyes wandered from the scribbles on paper to the framed photographs on her desk, Connor's blue eyes staring out at her and his handsome smile beaming at her. Her eyes lingered on his own for what felt like hours, welling up with tears as she ran through the exchange from last night like she would that week's episode of Friends. She blinked her, catching the tears that fell with her fingers before ripping the bottom drawer of her desk open, throwing the frame into the depths of it.

She dropped her head into her hands, pulling her fingertips along her eyebrows roughly. She sat up straight again, smoothing her denim pencil skirt with her palms. She wouldn't fall apart at work, she told herself, she wasn't going to let her see the best of her. She lifted her purse out from under her purse, fishing out a small makeup bag, turning in her chair so that she was facing the small mirror attached to the door of the small closet in the corner of her classroom. She produced from it a tube of mascara and tube of thick concealer, reapplying as she attempted to hide the dark circles under her eyes. As she chastely applied her makeup, a glow from her desk captured her attention. She turned, the piece of glossy cardstock gleaming under the fluorescent lighting. She slid it off the table, the printing indented into the card under her fingers. She chewed her lips, nose scrunching in distaste as the waxy taste of her lipstick hit her tongue. She grabbed the classroom phone, sliding it closer to her as she pounded the digits, raising the handset to her ear. She took a deep breath, leaning into the back of her chair and running her fingers through her hair. It rang twice, three times before the voice on the other line answered.

"Detective Duffy,"

She smiled, leaning forward onto her elbows, "Hi, Brian, it's, um, Kate Flannery. You gave me a ride home last night,"

She let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding when she heard him laugh on the other line, "Hey, Kate. How are ya?"

"I'm fine," it was a half truth, you know, she wasn't completely lying, "I just wanted to call and thank you again for last night."

She tugged at the gold cross around her neck that her dad had given her as a graduation present, listening as Duffy shuffled papers on the other line, "Hey, no need to thank me. Just glad to hear that you're okay."

"Still, I really appreciate it. It's been a while since someone has gone out of their way for me,"

"Don't mention it, Lucky Charms," he said, pleased to hear her giggle at the impromptu nickname, "How's your morning?"

She was taken aback by the sudden shift to casual conversation, but found herself strangely comfortable with small talking with a handsome, yet much older, police detective. "It's alright, so far. No outbursts or paper cuts yet."

"From you or the kids?"

She laughed again, "Neither of us."

He chuckled on the other line, "Hey, I was actually hoping you'd call. I know it's a little inappropriate, with you just, ah, going through a breakup, but um… do you have plans for Thursday night?"

She smiled, internally scolding herself for getting too excited, "Let me check my calendar," she said, sliding her hand over the blank space for Thursday on her desk calendar, "Oh, I'm pretty cramped, but I'm sure I can squeeze you in. What're ya thinking?"

"You a hockey fan?"

"I've never gone to a game,"

She heard a sudden commotion on his end, a little shouting and cursing from what she assumed to be someone being detained in the background, "Well, then you can't possibly say no to this opportunity, now can ya? Bruins are playing the Red Wings Thursday at 7:30, care to join me?"

She smiled, turning in her chair again, "Yeah. Of course. Sounds like a good time."

"Cool, pick you up at 6?"

"Remember my address?"

"All stored up in the database, Lucky Charms."

She laughed, snapping back into an upright position when the doorknob of her classroom twisted, a sea of first graders in winter coats and hats racing back into her classroom. She placed her hand over the mouthpiece, "Find a book! Read silently for ten minutes!" she returned to the phone call, "My students just came back in, so I guess I have to do my job now."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I probably should get back to mine, too. See ya Thursday?"

"See ya Thursday," she said, smiling widely as she hung up.

* * *

Kate stood on the sidewalk, bouncing softly in her coat, the wind biting at her exposed legs. She checked her watch, hoping the crosswalk signal would change quickly and allow her to make her way to the restaurant across the street before she was late. Between the cars that raced past her in the intersection, she could catch glances of the uppity Italian restaurant Brian had asked her to meet him at that night, bustling and alive with Friday night date nights. Brian had called her the night before, giving her the address of the little restaurant and asking her to meet him there at 8, telling her to "wear something nice."

This was the fourth night that she was spending in Brian's company, after their first date at the Bruins game (hockey being a sport that she didn't know that she would enjoy as much as she did) she had met him after work that following Friday for drinks at a pub near the police station, that Sunday for breakfast at a diner he swore by. They had made plans that Wednesday to meet for dinner at a Mexican joint by the elementary school, but he had called her hours before, explaining that he had a case he would be focused on all night and would be lucky to leave the station, apologizing profusely and asking the reschedule. She felt a warm tug in stomach when she saw the surprised smile that lit up his face when she arrived at the station that night, a bag of Chinese takeout in her hands. She enjoyed his company. When they sat beside each other at the Bruins game, she was comfortable in his presence; in his terrible jokes that still made her laugh, his stories from his job that he told with excitement and intensity, the way he threw his arm around the back of her seat, rubbing her shoulder through her thin gray sweater with his fingertips whilst pointing at the players with his free hand, explaining the game with a passion you could only find in a devout fan. He was kind, charming, funny, yet adult and sophisticated; the age gap bringing a sense of maturity that she found endearing and almost _sexy_. The Boston accent (although he grew up in the Winchester suburb, she had learned) was chasing out the Irish accent that still spoke to her in her mind, persistent and throbbing like a headache.

The red hand flickered out, replaced by the white walking man. Kate stepped off the curb, feeling like a baby giraffe in her heels. She tucked a curl behind her ear, scanning for Brian's figure among the crowd of couples waiting to be seated. She drew her coat closer to her, shivering lightly in her black cocktail dress. "Hey, Lucky Charms," she turned to the Boston accent she had grown so fond of in the past weeks, scanning the mass of couples. Brian emerged from behind a middle-aged couple, smiling widely at her. He had ignored the stubble that had formed over the past few days, a shadow of a beard cast on his face. He was dressed sharply, a black suit pair with a light blue button down. In his hand, he held a bouquet of roses. It was almost too cinematic for Kate, something she could never imagine Connor doing. The dress clothes, the fancy restaurant, the flowers… It felt silly. Brian's smile didn't fade as he neared her, his eyes widening at the sight of her, "You look incredible," he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek, he took a step back, holding her hand out as he took another look at her, "Like, damn, you look absolutely stunning."

She blushed, smiling up at him from under her lashes, "Good to know that it only takes a pair of heels and some makeup for you to think I'm pretty," she teased.

He chuckled, curling his fingers in hers, something they had only started doing since the night they went out drinking. His hands felt heavy in hers, yet the weight seemed comforting, like the way the right baseball bat feels in its owner's grip, "Oh please," he wrapped an arm around her waist, the bouquet pressed against her lower back, his pulse increasing as his nerves ran, "You always look beautiful." Her face was tilted toward his, her deep blue eyes gazing up at him from thick lashes dusted with snowflakes, her cheeks pink from the cold.

"Are those for me?" she breathed, his forehead pressing against hers as he nodded in response. His warm breath was sticky on her lips, smelling faintly of black coffee and mint chewing gum. His cologne was musty, smelling heavily of oak and sandalwood. She pressed closer to him, his body warm and almost safe from the cold, he licked his bottom lip, Kate closing her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the snow falling around her, but his warmth blocking out the winter. They must have looked ridiculous, some couple embracing on the sidewalk.

"You know, Christmas is next week," he said softly, "If you don't have plans, I'd love for you to come to Winchester. Ya know, meet my family, all that shit."

She giggled softly, shaking her head, "Are you going to kiss me yet, Detective?"

Brian smiled, closing the short distance between their lips. And for the first time, the headache ceased and Connor's voice melted away.


	2. Chapter 2

She never knew that she would fall in love with the sound of rustling sheets until they shared a bed. The sound of skin moving under linens was soothing and sensual, a noise that had become comforting over the past nine years. Kate sighed, pulling the hairs that had escaped from the bun she had lazily thrown it into the night before, rolling on her side. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her body closer to him. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his bare chest and running her hand across his stomach before coming to a resting point once again; releasing the breath she didn't know she had been holding. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, muttering out a sleep hoarse "Good morning, Mrs. Duffy," bringing his free arm up and resting it under his pillow, propping his head up.

She smiled, kissing her husband's chest and repeating the phrase back that he had whispered to her every morning since the morning following the night he proposed, and quite a few nights before that as well, "Good morning, Mr. Duffy."

He sat up, Kat lifting her body with him, frowning in the discomfort as her back struggled under her swollen belly. She only made it halfway before she held her arm out for her husband, "Brian," she groaned. The detective took his wife's arm, grunting as he gently pulled her into a seated position. She leaned back against the headboard, smacking the snooze button on their alarm clock as it started to sound. Brian took his glasses from their resting place on the nightstand, turning on the flat screen mounted above the electric fireplace in their bedroom on as he perched the plastic frames on his nose.

"One," he said, flipping to morning cartoons.

"Two," she said, reaching over to pick a ball of lint out of her husband's chest hair.

The sound of little feet running down the hallway was accompanied by the clicking of nails on hardwood as the bedroom door was pushed open; her Saturday morning symphony. Before she could wipe the sleep out of her eyes, a bundle of Buzz Lightyear pajamas and King Charles spaniel were wiggling their way between her and Brian.

"Good morning, champ," Brian said, his smile wide as he lifted his four year old in his arms, laughing when the boy let out a squeal of laughter. Kate reached over, tickling her son's belly before her husband blew a raspberry on his belly and kissed his little boy's cheek. She watched her husband kiss their child, her heart swelling and eyes welling with pregnancy hormone induced tears. Lucas was Brian's clone, from his nose to toes to the green eyes that she fell in love with when she looked at both of her boys for the first time. Her husband had grayed over the years, the 37-year-old's hair and beard gone salt and pepper and his body a little softer from the years of fatherhood and Happy Meals. She loved him so much. She loved him, she loved the life he gave her.

"Good mornin', Momma," Lucas cooed, snuggling into Kate's arms. The little boy pressed his lips to her belly before wrapping his little arms around the bump, "And sissy,"

Kate kissed her little boy's head, cuddling him the best she could with her eight and a half month baby bump. They settled into their Saturday morning routine, Brian on call and her weekend beginning as they both rested their eyes to the sound of Lucas's cartoons. Brian reached over and rubbed her belly, smiling as Baby Rowan kicked under his touch; both of her babies awake. The lazy silence was broken by the loud blaring of Brian's cell phone, the detective mumbling under his breath as he drew the comforter back, "Lola, off the bed, go," he muttered to the ginger puppy as he nudged her off the bed, "Baby. Where."

"Kitchen counter," she responded, Brian nodding as he pulled his slippers out from under the bed and made his way out of the bedroom and down the staircase of their townhouse. Lucas wiggled out of his mother's arms, occupying the warm spot Brian had left on the bed.

"Does Daddy have to go to work?" he asked, his eyes glued to the spectacled anteater on the screen.

Kate pulled herself up and out of the bed, groaning as she pressed her hands to her lower back and straightened her spine. Her pregnancy with Rowan was proving to be much more uncomfortable than her pregnancy with Lucas. She grabbed her robe from the vanity bench and threw it around her body, "Stay here and watch Arthur, baby. I'm going to go see who called Daddy," she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She knew what her husband's job would entail when they got married, and always loved and respected him for it, but the nights when a phone call ripped him out of bed and out of her arms, or forced him to excuse himself from an ultrasound or during one of Lucas's soccer games, she wished that she could just tell him to stay.

She stepped out of the bedroom, Lola rushing into the bedroom and jumping back onto the bed. She wrapped her fingers around the banister, making a mental note to dust. As she made her way down the stairs, her eyes scanned over the photographs framed along the stairway, moving backwards in time; Still frames of Lucas's wide smile from Brain's shoulders from their Disneyworld trip earlier that year. Lucas's newborn pictures, his full head of hair peeking out from under a crochet cap. A black and white photo of her and Brian while she was pregnant with Lucas, along with a few framed photos from the several years in which they were a childless couple. Vacations photos of their sunburned shoulders and tanned faces in their swimsuit on a beach, drinks in their hands and smiles plastered to their faces. Their red noses and rosy cheeks dressed in running pants and marathon numbers (she never thought she'd marry into a family that ran marathons on holidays, but life was full of surprises). Photographs of green rolling hills and foggy skies from their trip to Ireland to see her family after the death of her father. She ran her fingers along each frame, smiling as she came to the multiple frames of their wedding pictures. The sleek white strapless gown, her hair pulled up and her lips painted red, Brian handsome as always in his black tux as he held her in his arms, their first dance immortalized. They were together for less than a year before he proposed, a short and beautiful five months, the wedding coming three months after. Everyone thought she was crazy when she packed up everything she owned after two months and moved out of her apartment in the shitty part of town into the townhouse she would later go on to raise her family in with the man she loved. She remembered the night she kissed him first, on that corner by the Italian restaurant they went to for every anniversary, birthday, or big milestone. She had never known that one day he would get down on one knee and ask her to marry him on that same corner.

She found him leaning against the kitchen counter, his back to her and phone pressed to his ear. He was speaking low and fast, her heart sinking when she recognized his tone. He glanced behind him, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards into an apologetic smile. He had to go in. She drew her bathrobe close to her, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her head to his chest. He reached up and stroked her hair with his free hand, phone still pressed to his ear, a stony look on his face. The call came to an abrupt end and he set his phone on the counter, sighing before pressing a kiss to his wife's head. "You have to go?" she asked, hoping that his answer would be different than what she was sure it was. He looked strange. The color had drained from his face, beads of sweat forming in his hairline. He looked grey, sickly almost.

He nodded, kissing her head again, "I'm sorry, babe," he said, "I know how excited he was about today I-."

She pressed her hands to his chest. The color still hadn't returned to his face, "Its fine," she cut him off, "It's your job, Brian."

He reached over, turning the coffee machine on before wrapping his arms around her again, "I just hate disappointing him, Kate."

"You're not. Go tell him." she pressed a kiss to his cheek, turning towards the hallway to the laundry room, "What shirt do you want?"

"Blue."

"What was the call about?" she pulled a blue button down off a hanger, tossing it over the ironing board and switching the iron on.

Brian was starting up the stairs, calling back to his wife over his shoulder. His eyes were wild, "A priest was found shot at the Catholic church."

"The one we go to with your parents or the one down by where I used to live?" she rotated the vase of roses on the counter that Brian had brought home the night before, a regular Friday ritual for him since they had started dating.

"Where you used to live."

Her heart sank a little, remembering the Sunday mornings she spent in that church. Brian hadn't left the bottom step, fingers tightening around the banister as he stared forward. Her brow wrinkled with concern as she poured his coffee, Rowan kicking in her tummy. "Brian? Honey, are you okay?"

"Remember that case I was on in '99? The vigilantes?" she raised her eyebrows, "They think it's them."

* * *

Enjoy and please review.

Always,

-DCAGP


End file.
